


Reciprocal Torture

by farad



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 10:05:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18193148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: In response to a quote from "Sins of the Past"; Ezra grapples with Chris, Vin, his mother, and losing his dream.





	Reciprocal Torture

 

 

“ _Love is a reciprocal torture.”_ \- Marcel Proust

 

from “Sins of the Past”:

 

VIN: I lived with Kiowas and Comanches. I know a thing or two about getting the truth out of people.  
  
CHRIS: I look forward to seeing that. Too bad we got to keep him alive.

 

“I do wonder,” Ezra mused, picking up the bottle of bourbon from his dresser and carrying it back toward the bed, “just how dangerous he could truly be. You saw how he was with his quest to find Eli Joe.” He held out the bottle to Chris who nodded and held up his own glass. The crystal caught the dull light from the bedside lamp and created a scattering of colors on the far wall of the bedchamber, which Ezra watched for a few seconds, as much in appreciation as in consideration of how he should pursue this conversation.

 

“Eli Joe has made Vin an outlaw,” Chris said quietly, his voice rough. “Reckon Vin had a right to be pretty invested in getting hold of him.”

 

Ezra poured an ample serving into Chris’ glass, the liquid cutting off the pattern of colors. As he poured a measure into his own glass, he said carefully, “I do not deny that. But even you must admit that he can be little . . . intimidating when he has vengeance on his mind.”

 

“That a surprise?” Chris asked wryly. “You saying you wouldn’t feel the same way if it were you – or your ma?”

 

He almost took the bait – the very idea that he would allow someone to threaten his mother – but he caught himself, frowning at the other man. He would have been irritated, as he knew that the words had been meant to do exactly that, distract him, but seeing Chris here, sleepy, sated, his lips swollen, his hair mused, his bare chest pale but darker than the white linen of the sheets . . .

 

He might have been entirely distracted by that, coupled with the memory of what they had just done together, here in his own bed, but even as his mind wandered away from the topic, Chris, the bastard, lifted the whiskey to mouth and just as he started to sip, the corners of those perfect lips twitched upward, into a grin.

 

“I am talking about the man you spend so much of your day with,” Ezra said, with more venom than he’d intended. Without a thought, he turned away, walking to the end of the bed. “I worry that you will be pulled into his path of violence – as you were so recently.”

 

Chris drank and when he lowered the cup, he was not grinning. Instead, he was glaring at Ezra. He didn’t respond immediately, though; he held the liquor in his mouth as if he were savoring it – which, of course, he should have been. It was one that was very rare in these parts. His mother had brought it to him, on this last visit. This last damned visit. Granted, he had requested it, but he had intended for her to ship it, not to show up here to deliver it – and to make his life hell. On top of that, she had charged him a fee for the trouble, tacked on to the already expensive price.

 

When Chris finally did swallow, the glare lessened. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped. Then, tilting his head to one side, his eyes still on Ezra, he said, “You think Vin is a threat to me?”

 

The answer was so obvious that Ezra was momentarily astounded.

 

Until he made himself think about what he had just said. Then he sighed. “Of course he, personally, is not. He would never do anything to hurt you.” Which, Ezra knew, was true. Vin had been willing to sacrifice himself to get Chris back when they had discovered that Chris was in that damnable prison.

 

Vin had been willing to let himself be taken as a prisoner, more or less, to give them access the prison.

 

The very thought of it still made Ezra feel cold.

 

And, when he allowed himself to consider it, made him feel guilty. Because he wasn’t certain he could have done the same.

 

But that wasn’t the point here. The point was that Vin Tanner was – well, dangerous.

 

“But you think he’s – what, Ezra? More violent than me?”

 

“Yes,” Ezra said, so quickly that he wasn’t even aware of saying it – until he saw one of Chris’ fine eyebrows rise.

 

Then the slight twist of his lips that said he was amused – but also insulted.

 

Because he would be. He was, after all, Chris Larabee, one of the fastest and most accurate guns in the West.

 

“I do not mean to impune your prowess with a gun,” Ezra said, trying to sort through the issue here. “Obviously, he has nowhere near your speed or ability in a draw – I saw it myself back at Jericho. He was the last of us to clear his holster.”

 

Chris took another sip of his drink, taking as long this time as he had before to swallow. It gave Ezra a chance to sip from his own, and to think about what he really need to say – and to not say.

 

“Yeah,” Chris said after a time, “Vin ain’t a fast draw – and he doesn’t want to be. Hell, he ain’t really happy being as good as he is with a rifle. But it’s gotten him through a lot of tough times. But I don’t think that that’s what you’re considering to be violence.”

 

He was right, of course – and hearing it this way made Ezra realize how stupid he was being. Shooting people was about as violent as it got. Ezra disliked having to do it himself and tried to limit it to matters of self-defense.

 

This was not about shooting. It was about . . .

 

He sighed, going back through the incidents that had led to him to want this discussion.

 

As if knowing his mind, Chris said softly, “You were concerned a while back, when Billy Travis came to town, and your mother was in town. You mentioned then you thought Vin was more - how did you put it? Enthusiastic? - than you thought appropriate with the interrogation of the stage coach robbers, and you were even more concerned about his intimidation of Wheeler.”

 

Ezra nodded as he said, “I was concerned that my mother witnessed his threats to Mr. Wheeler. He was quite intimidating. I should hate to think what he would be like with a weapon in his hand. He almost beat Yates to death with his own hands!” The memory of Vin attacking the man who was already on the ground, not able to resist -

 

“You really want to play this card?” Chris said, his voice low.

 

Ezra caught himself and turned to find Chris pushing back the sheets and sitting up. He still held the glass but as he moved, he reached to one side, placing it on the beside table.

 

Now the beams of light that caught in the glass were different, as if catching Chris’ mood; they fractured into patterns of orange-red, scattering across the lower part of the wall and the small table that served as Ezra’s desk.  

  


They twirled about, frenzied, and Ezra passingly noted the sloshing of the whiskey, waves of amber liquid exploding against the sides of the glass, but his attention was on Chris - on the fact that he was rising from the bed. 

  


Though he was beautiful to behold, naked and unashamed, out of the bed was not where Ezra wanted him, not now. 

  


“Why are you - I didn't mean - “

  


Chris leaned down, pickomg up his pants from where they lay on the floor.  “Vin ain’t no more dangerous than I am - not to people he cares about. Reckon if you’re worried about him, you gotta be worried about me.” He shook the pants and started to step into them. 

  


“You know that is not what I am saying,” Ezra said, though part of his attention was on the idea that Vin cared about people - and that Chris did, too. Wasn’t that the parallel Chris was drawing?  “I am saying that - “ He drew in a breath, then, as Chris’ perfect ass passed from view behind black cloth, he said more quietly, “I’m saying that I am scared that one day you will get killed because of him.”

  


Chris had buttoned two of the pants’ four buttons but he stopped and turned to look at Ezra. “Could just as easily get killed because of you,” he said.  “Or Buck, or - hell, Mary, or Billy or any one else in this town. More likely, though, that I’m gonna get killed because of myself.” 

  


His hands were still holding the fabric of his pants, creating a shadow in which the golden hair at his groin glinted.  Ezra tried not to look at it, tried to concentrate on the words as Chris went on. “But I’m wondering if you’re worried more about physical danger than about the danger of me being with Vin.”

  


Ezra looked up, surprised.  “What do you mean?” 

  


Though he knew what Chris meant - and Chris knew that he knew. 

  


Chris’ jaw tightened and his fingers pulled at the cloth he held, working on the third button. 

  


Ezra sighed and said, “All right, I know what you mean. And, maybe, you are correct.”  

  


He was rewarded for the admission with Chris’ stillness; the hands stopped working and the pants remained with only two buttons closed. 

  


“Thought we’d talked this to death already,” Chris said, though there was no anger in the words. More a resignation, and perhaps a kind of dread.

  


Ezra looked away, to his hands which still held his glass.  He took another a sip from it, giving himself a chance to think.  But again, it was Chris who spoke. 

  


“You had your hands full with your ma and with the saloon, Ezra. And even if you hadn’t, I would not have let you come with me to get Vin away from Yates.  You’ve had enough trouble with the law already, and on top of that, it really was as easier and faster for me to do it alone. You know that.”

  


Ezra nodded, looking into his glass.  He did know all of this. He had argued it with himself for the past few days - when he wasn’t fighting off the anger and disappointment from losing the saloon. 

  


“But that ain’t it either, is it.  It’s the fact that Vin is thinking about going to Texas, and that I promised to go with him.”

  


Hearing the words, hearing Chris say them aloud, made Ezra’s stomach roil.  It felt as if all the air in the room was suddenly gone and he was unable to draw breath.  He closed his eyes, but the room seemed to spin around him, and he thought he might fall - 

  


“Ezra.” 

  


Chris’ voice was close, in his ear.  A hand closed around his, holding the glass, and at the same time, Ezra felt the presence of a warm body at his side. 

  


“I know you’re angry with Maude, know you had your heart set on running that saloon.” The words were soft, accompanied by the sweet scent of the whiskey and the tickle of breath across his cheek.  “But I ain’t Maude. I ain’t running out on you, taking your dreams. If we go - and it is still if, not when - I will be back. With Vin.” 

  


The spinning slowed and Ezra found he could breathe. Slowly, carefully, he could draw in air. 

  


He didn’t open his eyes though, but he did not flinch when an arm encircled his waist and drew him against Chris.

  


“I’ll say it again: you got no cause to be jealous of Vin.  I ain’t getting into his bed nor he into mine. But he is my friend and you’ve got to accept that.  He’s your friend, too, though I know you still don’t see that.” 

  


The idea of it, that Vin Tanner was his friend, almost made him laugh.  They had nothing in common outside of this job, this town. 

  


And Chris. 

  


But then, he thought, letting his head rest on Chris’ shoulder, perhaps that was all they needed.  Concern for this man. 

  


“Will you come back to bed?” he asked. 

  


“Will you stop worrying about Vin?” Chris asked in return.

  


It wasn’t in his nature not to worry, especially about the things he wanted. And they both knew it. 

  


But for the sake of the moment, for the pleasure of getting Chris back into bed, Ezra let the argument go.

 

He didn’t answer, but Chris must have sensed his acceptance of the inevitable, for he released his hold on Ezra’s glass and kissed Ezra lightly on the temple. “Cold in here; if we’re going back to bed, let’s do it.” 

 

Ezra let himself be guided around the foot of the bed and up the far side, his side. Chris took the glass from his hand, letting Ezra slide under the bedclothes before handing it back. He smiled a little before he leaned it to kiss Ezra, this time on the lips. 

 

It was warm and sure, not passionate, but not passing. 

 

As it ended and Chris drew back, he said softly, “If you took the time to get to know him, you’d know that he’s a hell of a lot more dangerous than you see here.” 

 

Ezra blinked, trying to process the information around the renewed stirring in his groin. He’d barely made the words make sense in his brain when he realized that Chris had returned to his own side of the bed and was divesting himself of his pants. 

 

“What does that mean?” Ezra asked as Chris got back into the bed, drawing at the blankets and pulling them up high over his chest. 

 

Chris didn’t answer at first, instead turning to press himself against Ezra. He was, Ezra noted uncomfortably, indeed cold. 

 

“What do you think it means?” Chris asked, turning on his side, so that he could look up at Ezra. 

 

Ezra took another, final sip of his drink, killing it off and setting the glass on the the table beside him before also relaxing back into the pillows and against the other man. “It suggests that you have some knowledge of his capabilities that I do not. Perhaps you should share these details?” 

 

Chris snorted. “Perhaps you should stop thinking about him as competition and start thinking about him as a friend. He might share things with you. Things that don’t have to come out because he’s trying to save my ass.”

 

Ezra drew in a breath, still struggling with this concept of friendship. With the idea of spending time with Vin Tanner that wasn’t for the protection of the town – or the best interests of Chris Larabee. 

 

For now – for now, he couldn’t see it, though he could see that it would be a good idea to let both Vin and Chris think that he was making the effort. 

 

Especially if, as Chris was implying, Vin Tanner was even more violent than he seemed to be already. 

 

It was hard to appreciate that. But the image of Vin Tanner, wild-eyed, gravel-voiced, hand on his gun . . . 

 

“I’m still cold,” Chris muttered, one arm snaking around Ezra’s waist and pulling at him. “What the hell are you doing up there?” 

 

Ezra smiled, letting himself be drawn deeper into the blankets. “I was just thinking about your best interests. And the various ways we can find to warm you up.” 

 

 

  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
